Page 109 of Safe Place

I sit beside her on the bed and gently pull her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her like she might fall apart if I let go. Because right now, she just might.

“I won’t go anywhere,” I murmur into her hair, holding her close. “I’ve got you. I’ll have someone bring everything.”

I hold her close, one hand moving in slow circles on her back, and I feel the tension in her body gradually loosen. Her breathing evens out. Her grip on my shirt slowly goes slack.

She's asleep before I even realize it.

She must have run the whole way here, adrenaline carrying her every step. I don't even want to think about how long that took, how much she had to push through just to get to me. But she did. She came here.

And the fact that she feels safe enough now—safe enough with me—to just let go completely and knock out in my arms? That does something to me I don't have words for.

I press a kiss to the top of her head and hold her tighter.

I'm not moving an inch.

THIRTY

Does the pink literally not pop?

SOPHIE

Again, I wake in a cloud of soft sheets and realize I've fallen asleep in Micah's bed. When I blink awake, the room is dim with evening light—it’s almost eight. For a second, everything that happened earlier feels like a bad dream. Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe.

I step out of the room and pause. The entire sofa area looks like it was attacked by a pink explosion. Throw blankets, cushions, and plush rugs in every shade of blush and rose cover the space. There’s a pink and white striped pajama set folded neatly on the chaise lounge, surrounded by a small army of stuffed animals.

In the kitchen, there’s a vintage-style popcorn machine and an entire spread of drinks lined up beside it—sparkling waters, fruity sodas, a bottle of pink lemonade.

And Micah.

His hair is tousled, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times trying to get everything just right. He’s wearing a thin white t-shirt that hugs his chest and arms in a way that should be illegal.

“Did a pink unicorn throw up in here?” I joke, stepping closer as he blends something pink and frothy in the kitchen, surrounded by frozen fruit packs and a half-unpacked bag of marshmallows.

“Good morning, baby,” he says with a crooked smile. “Well—evening, I guess. Did you sleep okay?”

I smile. He was right—it is nice waking up and having him be the first person I see. He probably looked all this up or asked Grant again what girls like. I could tell him that not everything needs to be pink just because I’m a girl—but I don’t want to shut him down. Especially when he’s trying so hard. When he’s making magic out of thin air just to make me smile.

“Did you do all this for me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

He nods, proud. “Yeah. I thought we could have a movie night. I heard girls love pajama movie nights.” He grins. “Don’t worry—I asked Poppy this time. Not Grant.”

“I love it,” I tell him honestly. “That explains why Breakfast at Tiffany’s is playing on the TV.”

It’s Poppy’s favorite movie and she watches it at least once a week.

He opens his arms. “Come here.”

I walk right into them. He wraps me up like I belong there.

“I love you, Sophie,” he murmurs into my hair. “I want you to feel at home here.”

“I love you too,” I say softly. “But you really don’t have to redecorate your entire home for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “I know your favorite color is white, but I didn’t want the place to look like an asylum or anything. Poppy said there should be a pop of color. Or at least I think that’s what it was.”

I laugh, tipping my head up to look at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he smiles.